why sometimes, somethings are funny to some people

"kami keluar beramai2,ada seorang kurang upaya melintas jalan and dia jatuh, ada seorang yg tolong but other people dont care at all (maybe sbb dah ada org yg tlg), but then kitaorg tercakap pasal that handicapped guy tu,

suddenly one of my friend make joke about him,she said "dia lintas macam ayam lintas jalan, pakai spek hitam waktu malam and bla bla bla"i rasa cam nak marah but i dont know what else to say, i balik umah and i fikir, since when we start to make joke of people who have bad lucks and misfortune?"

Izinkan saya untuk meneruskan entry ini dalam Bahasa Inggeris.

First and foremost, I would like to remind Husna, who requested me to jot a few points about the scenario given above; that there are many possible reasons for this friend of yours to joke about it and my perceptions of the happening may depend on the way the actual scene go.

But let’s say that she really meant to show that she was obviously a mean and inconsiderate being. If that was the case then it is also obvious that my opinion would be: she was mean and inconsiderate. Just as any people’s perception would be, I believe. Because it is common sense that people who bad mouth the less fortunate are those people who lack EQ (inconsiderate) or/and are simply mean.

But let’s say that she didn’t mean it; that she lost her mind for a second there and that she was just trying to break the discussion with something out of people’s ordinary expectations of sad and trying-to-be-considerate-human-being comments.

Maybe I could excuse her. I'd brush off the comment with another mundane comment like: EE..ngko ni, Timah! Tak baek cakap macam tu! And then she’d reply: Ala…aku main-main saja la… And the day goes on.

But even with this excuse, the scene remains sad and sick. The fact is we make fun out of the less fortunate. I saw this not just in Husna’s scenario. I’ve witnessed it in many occasions—people making jokes out of other people’s misery. Maybe I did it too. To a certain extent, I perceive this as an effort to try to break out of the ordinary.

We passed the time when it is more usual to make the effort to sound appropriate; to a time we try to sound ‘cynical’ in a superior kind of way. Just because sadness is romanticized these days.

The time of the ‘advanced’. Yuck.

I guess the more advance the world is the more we lost one important thing in us: humility (May refer to this and this. More of humbleness, I guess). This week, I found myself using this word and I found myself listening others using it more often. And after reflecting back; I guess I am surely as hell guilty for the crime too.

Therefore, the answer to the question: since when did we start to make jokes of people who have bad lucks or misfortunes—is simple. The day we lost our humility. We forgot how small we are no matter how almost-perfect we are or how superior we are compared to others.

We saw something sad—we say I am sadder or that something sad is its own fault or we say the world is already a sick sad place anyway, so why not make fun of it. We forget that when we saw something sad, it should have reminded us of the Almighty and how small we are.

We should remind ourselves that: Mr Sadness is around us to remind us of Him.
And maybe only then that it won’t be funny anymore.

Memilih memori mana untuk di simpan

1. Telinga aku pernah digigit tikus. Macam Doremon. Tapi tidak lah sampai hilang, luka pun tidak. Cuma di kacau-kacau saja—sempat aku terbagun sambil terpekik sebab baru tersedar separuh badan ku sudah masuk bawah katil mak. Dulu aku pe-nidur yang ganas. Dulu.
2. Sebelah mata aku pernah digigit serangga. Aku terbangun satu hari di tengah malam; rasa sakit sebelah mata. Bila aku pegang macam ada kumbang dekat kelopak mata. Aku cabut saja lepas itu sambung tidur. Bila bangun, mata sebelah sudah terlekat sebab darah banyak sudah beku. Sampai sekarang parut ada. Itu sebab mata aku sebelah lain. Macam Thom Yorke pun ada. Tapi aku bukan lazy eye. I guess I’m much cooler.

Semalam aku dengan salah seorang rakan serumah ku menghabiskan masa petang di beranda rumah. Kami bercerita banyak benda. Ini **salah satu topik yang tersebut. Walaupun sebenarnya dia cuma brush through the term, aku rasa aku sudah tertarik ingin menulis tentang fasal ini dari dulu lagi.

**Ingatan terpilih. (?) Selective memory.

Aku tidak banyak simpan memori masa kecil aku. Entah kenapa. Aku kira-kira mungkin sebab aku memang tidak mahu ingat. Bila sudah sedikit tua ini, aku rasa menyesal sebab tidak simpan lebih banyak memori. Sebab aku rasa, dikalangan kenangan-kenangan pahit yang bertimbun itu, banyak sebenarnya kenangan yang gembira. Mungkin.

Tapi kalau sekarang, yang aku ingat hanya seperti rajah sekerat-sekerat. Macam fotograf yang diambil. Bukan satu cerita yang panjang pun. Dua kejadian di atas adalah contoh memori yang sedikit panjang. Itu pun seperti tidak relevan.

Contoh ingatan fotografik aku:

• aku ingat aku terpaksa menggunakan kerusi untuk menghidupkan suis lampu *sebab pendek*
• aku ingat baring di atas toto di bahangian belakang van kuning usang dalam perjalanan ke kampong bapak
• aku ingat Abang pakai kain terlukis muka hantu sebagai topeng untuk menakut-nakutkan aku
• aku ingat aku korek-korek longgokan pasir di depan rumah yang tengah diubah-suai untuk cari siput yang cantik
• dll

Tapi ada juga memori pahit yang aku tidak dapat buang sepenuhnya. Yang bahayanya aku takut aku sudah elaborate memori-memori ini dengan menokok tambah supaya ia menjadi cerita yang sempurna. Sebab memori-memori ini lah yang sentiasa berikan ‘pertanyaan lanjut’ yang selalunya cuma bawa lebih banyak kesedihan.

Memori sekolah rendah, sekolah menengah, hampir 70% aku lupa. Mungkin lebih. Kesimpulannya aku memang orang yang pelupa. Tsk. Tak mengapa. Yang sedikit tertinggal itu, aku simpan elok-elok.

Kemudian aku terfikirkan Iman. Dia ialah salah seorang anak kecil terdekat yang aku ada. Yang aku boleh perhati dari jauh atau dari dekat. Iman tak masuk lagi tahun ke-4 dia hidup. Tapi aku rasa pahit kenangan dia tu sudah lebih pahit dari kopi Pak Abu berumur 60 tahun yang minum di warung petang-petang sambil hisap rokok Suria.

Pada umumnya, selepas berfikirkan fasal Iman, aku bersyukur manusia punya Childhood Amnesia. Tapi aku yakin walau macam mana pun, kehidupan dewasa dia akan terkesan juga. Dan lagi, aku tidak mahu dia mempunyai selektif memori pula macam aku. Aku harap keadaan cepat berubah.

Aku harap dia jadi macam Lat kalau boleh. Memori kuat dan boleh bercerita dari perspektif kehidupan seorang yang membesar dan menjadi dewasa *autobiografi: Kampung Boy*. Belajar dalam situasi yang cukup kondusif untuk dia ‘diajar’ menjadi manusia yang ‘bagus’. Dan definisi terma ‘bagus’ itu pun biarlah yang ‘betul’.

Sempurnanya sesebuah penipuan

Hari tu—mungkin sudah dua minggu lepas—aku perasan ajakan Azri di blog beliau untuk bloggers lain untuk menulis dalam bahasa Melayu sempena bulan bahasa kebangsaan ini. Memang aku mahu menulis dalam Bahasa sejak beberapa entry dahulu tapi asyik ‘terikut hati’ untuk menulis sedikit mengikut amarah. Dan kalau sudah sedikit ikut rasa amarah atau rasa teruja sediki memang aku pakai English.

Tapi hari ini seuai lah sungguh aku berBahasa. Kenapa?

Aku baru sampai pulang dari hujung minggu yang sedikit melelahkan. Tapi gembira membantu orang yang memerlukan dan gembira bersama orang yang aku sayang sudah cukup menutup habis lelah itu.

Dan dalam gembira dan lelah, aku rasa teruja dan amarah ku sedikit terkawal. Jadi itulah aku bilang masa ini masa yang sesuai. Masa bila emosi terkawal.

Jadi dalam masa-masa begini juga aku rasa bagus untuk aku mengutarakan pendapat aku tentang sesuatu yang sangat menarik perhatian di FB beberapa hari lepas.

Salah satu rakanku meletakkan statusnya dengan frasa ini:

S(he) be(lie)ve(d)

Masa itu secara kebetulan aku baru log in dan status ini ‘terangkat’. Heh; terangkat?. Dengan sedikit pilu (entah kenapa) aku komen status itu dengan pendapat spontan ku: it’s not fair.

Beberapa minit berlalu, aku kembali semula ke status itu. Dan aku terkejut dengan lagi banyak respon dari rakan-rakan lain. Beberapa orang sudah pun ‘like’ status itu. Kebanyakannya perempuan.

Aku percaya bahawa kesemua mereka ini bukannya secara literal ‘menyukai’ penyata dari status kawan itu. Tetapi mungkin secara general nya menyetujui bahawa *ini yang aku terjemahkan dari status itu secara personal; maaf kalau silap*:

…. perempuan memercayai ketika lelaki menipu. She believed=he lied.

Kenapa aku komen: it’s unfair? Kerana secara generalnya, memang ayat penyata itu sedikit tidak adil. Bukan. Ia kekurangan sesuatu. Sebab perkara pertama yang datang ke kepala aku: kalau lelaki menipu, bukan selalunya perempuan percaya.

Kemudian, fikiran-fikiran ini pula datang: Kalau lelaki menipu, bukan semua perempuan boleh percaya. Kalau sesiapa pun *tak kira jantina* menipu, bukan semua orang/bukan selalunya orang lain*tak kira jantina* percaya. Kalau menipu, tak semestinya percaya.

Aku banyak berjumpa dengan penipuan selama aku hidup. Penipuan-penipuan besar dan kecil; penipuan-penipuan yang memusnahkan hidup dan penipuan yang aku selilsih dan biar saja berlalu. Penipuan adalah satu benda yang pelik dan menjijikkan.

Dan bila orang menipu depan-depan aku, kemudian aku bertanya untuk memastikan ‘kebenaran’ sedangkan aku nampak betapa tipu nya penipuan tukang tipu itu, rasa jijik pun muncul.

Tapi sebagai mangsa penipuan, kadang-kadang aku tersepit. Jadi aku biar saja ia berlalu. Tapi bukan bermaksud aku percaya. Jadi para penipu sekalian, jangan sesekali fikir bila kau menipu dengan ‘sempurna’nya kau akan 'lari' dengan penipuan itu.

Aku percaya: menipu memakan diri sendiri. Bukan rugi si polan yang kena tipu.Tapi rugi si penipu sendiri.

Jangan salah faham; emosi ku masih terkawal. ;)
Ini peringatan untuk diri juga.

An amorphous cloud

I have a few things to share.

First, there's this project by an artist who got daily deviation yesterday: Avid, called project 365. The aim is to draw for every day of a year. I browsed through his project's portfolio and seen so many interesting drawings with captions I'd like to share here. But one drawing in particular hit me; it hit me hard. Owh. Actually it wasn't the drawing that hit me, but the caption. so:



the caption is

I get emotional over a lot of petty things, I am glad I draw & not commit my thoughts to laughable writing.

When I read that, I thought to myself darn... I do get emotional over a lot of petty things too.. But did I, on the contrary, committed my thoughts to very laughable and hate-able writings in this blog? I think I did. I am. Damn. So, should I not be glad instead? Should I stop writing and draw instead so no one can really guess what I am thinking and even the dumbest thoughts would not make anyone laugh because it wasn't a joke??

Nah. I think I am okay in making other people 'laugh' through my writings of stupid 'discussions' and silly remarks about perspectives and opinions. It hit me, though. Real hard.

But the portfolio is great anyway. You should check it out. In case you're interested [link].

Second: I have this thing that I like to do. I shared this with Clyde and the super-rum8 from planet Kryptiieenn. I guess I wana share with the whole world too. Sort of.

While walking down the "hostel's runway" the side street would filled with cars parked, right. So, I have this thing of summing up the numbers on car plate numbers and round up the total into a one digit number. For example, for this plate: 6729 it is 6+7+2+9=24 so the final answer is 6 because 2+4=6.

I did that when I am happy. Or when I wanted to be happy. It works most days--it can stabilize my moodiness. So, maybe you could try it. Sum the numbers as fast as you can. Count the numbers out loud.
I love maths by the way. This is, apparently, my final hope of sticking up with numbers.

Third, I have this

I started this drawing a few months ago for a friend who seemed to appreciate my works the most. I hope she likes this. I got stuck not completing it because I couldn't find the most suitable thing to put in the half part of the drawing. I only get the idea of how to finish it a few days ago. It's called The Land of Far Beyond.

I like to conclude this sharing with another silly thought to share. I am like an amorphous cloud, forever changing shapes. So, I'd like to remind myself the unlimited possibility of my existence. In my own capacity, in my own boundaries, in my own limitation, in my own box--I am me, and I am free. I am weightless. I am me.

Like an amorphous cloud, who would only be a cloud, who can only be on top, who would one day die and fall down on earth and still be appreciated by earth, who is only a gathering of tiny droplets of water and yet is everything a dry land wished for, who can be harmless but harmful at the same time, always on the mercy of the winds but enjoyed by simply happy people finding peace on the blue sky.

And most importantly in all its limitation, it can change shapes and believe it as what it can be.
I am an amorphous cloud. It's a good thing, I guess...HEHEHEHE

like a white light dispersed through a prism

Just a short one, I think.

We all agreed we had an enjoyable but tiring day today. The whole cohort. I think I'll upload some pictures here and there. The thought of these few weeks will be my last weeks as a student makes me wana puke. Nervous. Sincerely afraid.

Randomly, I just wana say: our lives are like the building of buildings and landmarks or whatever. The thing is our buildings are never perfect. And different buildings lack different kinds of foundations. So, I presumed that we all are 'big' enough to know different people emphasize on different things in their lives; depending on the foundations that we lack. But I guess we're not that grown up anyway. And all I can hear is people yelling: "grow up!"


Here's a web I stumbled upon.

Terrible Yellow Eyes is a collection of works inspired by the beloved classic, Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.

Just in case you're interested.


I realized again and again *though not much of effort to change* how much I procrastinate and how much time I wasted by procrastinating. I started a drawing for a friend months ago. But I only get to finish it today. I'll upload it later too. And maybe start with another one.

Then I realized also, how much Clyde has taught me so many things. He came into my life as a really weird thing/phenomenon. And the effects he had on me is like a burst of colours in a spectrum. My ego would say: I dont need to change for this man. But I do. Everyone needs to change. Everyone needs a change or changes for that matter. And I'm not changing *or I didn't change* for him. It's for myself. He's just there for the help. And I'm glad I found him and he--me.

Like a white light dispersed through a prism. I just hope there would be nothing to block the white light anymore. Enough already.

Why am I even saying all this...
I guess I woke up in a bunk this evening.

you. You.

Life is like writing I guess. We’re living for an audience.

We’re writing for an audience. Who and what the audiences are determines *to a certain degree* how and what we’re writing and thus also how we’re living.

I read somewhere that no matter how carefree our writing is—or how controlled it is—saying how we write is for our own pleasure, satisfaction or maybe for our own reading in the future about the documentation of our past lives; we’d still have an audience that we set in our minds when we write. Right?

I mean, even though I am writing carelessly and aimlessly *or so I wanted people to assume*, I do take into considerations about the people whom I know would read this. Therefore, in a way, I am controlling what people read about here.

And in another way, I am not everything about what I write. My mind is so much more than what I wrote about here. What I thought about every second of my life doesn’t necessarily be portrayed here.

Because I take into considerations the status of this blog—public. Why in the first place did I put it with such status? It is so that whenever I decide to write anything, anything for this blog; I’d make sure it’d suitable for everyone to read even if the contents only converse about my own life and the way I see things. I’d make sure I write only what I want people to read.

And so, the people who assumed my personality based on solely the writings in this blog is somewhat limited in their judgment. But that’s just another passing of another judgment. So, excuse all of ourselves for passing judgments.

But the real problem is, I think, that this audience that I set in my mind while writing wouldn’t get me anywhere ultimately. I’d like to change my perception of the audience of this blog… if that’s possible.

I wish I only care about the One true audience that deserves to ever judge me and this life. But where oh where is my mind.

Elaboration on yet another repetitive point: wasting my morning hour

For some reason, I was thinking this thing again and again in my head since last night. "Not everyone heals as fast as you do, Logan"... But I am glad that I am calmer.

So this thing made me remember this 'saying' or whatever you might call it (a line? a quotation?)

never underestimate the power of any of your actions

that I had been scribbling in my personal notes and diaries since a few years ago when I was in secondary school. I am not the nice kind of girl now but I was far worse during those years. I was always in trouble though I’d like to think that I didn’t look for those troubles but instead, it found me.

Well, finding myself constantly in a situation when I felt troubled; I keep on asking questions like: why this happened to me? And many other questions that lead after that.

But I guess, the immaturity of myself at that stage always came to believe that I should not be the one to be blamed. That I had reasons for my actions. But that thought brought me to the point where I know other people also had reasons for their actions.

So if everyone had their reasons for their actions and everyone was self-righteous, who then should change for the betterment of everyone that were related to the problem or the trouble that we found ourselves in?

The answer is simple: everyone.

After years leaving school and now that I am going on 24 in a few months, I humbly confess that I am still immature in various pathetic ways. And what had changed in my way of thinking from those days in secondary school to this present day? Well, in this case: none.

I still hold the belief that in order to resolve a problem, EVERYONE (related) must change. Everyone must play their cards.

And then I realized if it is a card game, and we are all at a table holding cards, we would know we are in a game and we are players and we have the ‘responsibilities’ to play our cards. But we are not. And my belief could be unacceptable to others. Furthermore some people could have even yet to come to realize that they are in some sort of a trouble or causing problems, so how can these people know that they have to make changes?

Signs are everywhere, if only you want to see it. But other than that, there’s no way. So I can only say to you dear readers:

We’ll never really understand how dangerous some of our actions can be towards others. Therefore, never underestimate the power of any of our actions.

For example: a simple text to an old friend even without any irrational reasons (hopefully) can cause a great grief to someone. A simple ‘alaaaa’ can hurt a mother’s heart. A complimentary ‘pheewiiitt’ to a girl passing by can seem degrading too. A simple friendly laughter at some point made out by a friend can be –well, not so friendly. So, maybe, just maybe—think before you do your actions. Things probably looked different from this side of the world.

And as for me, I played my card.

Your turn.

bila malas belajar

pakcik--mungkin akan diperbaiki lagi. photo asal ihsan dari warnaiman.



sakit hati aku. bukan aku nak kata aku putus asa. tapi penat. mungkin aku akan perbaiki lagi. tapi perlu komen.

sila komen.
please?

hellos and goodbyes and everything else in between

hello.
pakcik's slow progress:



been a long time since i submitted any artwork on dA. so here goes. click on:

********************************

This is awkward—not having any school work to do. Yeah. We whine when there’s too much work and still do when there’s none at all.

If this blog is a representative of my heart, a reflection of my feelings, then maybe for the past two weeks my heart was either empty or too exhausted that it shut down for awhile.

The truth was: the first week I was missing in action, I was out trying to be in control of things that I know were out of my hands. I believe in myself too much—the power I have in seeing things between the lines and beyond what people say more than meets the eye. I was following my hunch and it led me to this very long and unwinding road of doubt for everything that I have.

It exhausted the life out of me. Believe me, at that phase, I was dreading to agree that sometimes ignorance is bliss. O yeah I do agree now. And relationships without trust are of course something that we don’t want to have. But trust is something to be earned. And time is something that I don’t own. I make total nonsense here for most of you, but I do believe some heads are nodding.

But then again—it all comes down to: not the trust you have of others but the trust you have for yourself. What I learned about during that 1 exhausting week was, I neither need to force myself into trusting other people nor doubting everything, but I do need to learn to trust myself in the things that I think I can do and have control of.

For example. I can’t force people to tell the truth all the time because people will always have a chance and have the excuses to lie. That’s what people do, you know. I can’t control what people do. But what I can do is showing how much I am worth the truth. And the truth better be the ones that wouldn’t hurt me.

Then, I let go.

The second week I was missing—

Well. Herm. Where was I? o yeah… I think I was out having fun already. Things look lighter when I let go of the hunch. I exited the road of doubt. Clyde brought me to the park again for breakfast and I played the swing and imagined I was flying. He imagined there were aliens coming to get us when the wind blew the dried leaves. We started to have fun in everything again. Even with wearing helmets in the car. I finally got my rainbow ice-cream again after 2 weeks of failed search.

At that same time I also just finished with my practicum. I may not be one of the trainees who deserved a distinction but I felt just good about everything—now that it’s over. I was glad that students and teachers did throw me some surprise parties and give me some small gifts which were more than enough. Because I was expecting to just disappear without any trace… Both hellos and goodbyes and everything else in between are awkward with people I just knew for a short time.

And there’s this one kid: her approximately seventh year in the schooling system and she said I am the best English teacher she had so far. She likes my teaching style apparently. But I don’t know what to reply so I just casually laughed at her remark and said I didn’t believe her. I said I didn’t believe any one of the naughty brats who said things like they love me and they’ll miss me. But she was the quiet one, you see. She said “this is true teacher, I’ll miss you very much…”—just made all the 3 months’ hard work and tears worth it.

You see, as one of my friends said to me “see, everything is not as bad as you see”—referring back to my hunch, my trust (more of mistrust maybe) and my practicum problems. It’s not like I like to see the ugly side of everything—if I know how to stop, I’d stop. If I know how to stop thinking too much and there’s a switch for it or something, I’d turn it off. But I can’t. Maybe I can just learn how to differentiate things that are under my control from those which are beyond my control, and actually take control.